forty”; but if he then find himself neither whole nor mending, he is a fool if he does not seek advice. Stomach digestion demands a period of leisure; hence the rule, “Never eat till you have leisure to digest.”—Assimilation and nutrition demand peace of mind, to ensure the best results; in sickness, especially, “the balance of power” often lies in this direction.
Note.—It should be understood that aside from the above hint, the foregoing disorders are to be considered by the reader in connection with the teachings of this volume as a whole. (See concluding paragraph in the chapter on Bright’s Disease.)
Having studied the subject well and with all practicable aid, settle upon a regimen, let it become second nature, and never worry about diet or think of your stomach; but if that organ persists in making itself felt, adopt a more abstemious regimen still, and go on again.
Maria Giberne—artist and vegetarian, of whom at the age of fifty, Mozley said: “She is the handsomest woman I ever saw,” and who “now at near eighty has the same flowing locks, though they are white as snow, and her talk and her letters are as bright as ever”—ascribed her wonderful preservation and unfailing health to her observation of the fasts [she was a Catholic] and her general abstemiousness. “Her diet consisted chiefly of bread and fruit, mostly apples. One apple in the middle of a long day she spoke of as a great refreshment. She had never to complain of the heat.”
We call it a disorder when Nature is really putting things to rights—bringing the order of health out of the chaos of disease: it is like “house-cleaning,” where the mistress has let things run at loose ends for a long time—sweeping the dirt under the stove,
behind the door, etc., and making unnecessary dirt—instead of keeping the establishment in order and thereby avoiding any occasion for a general upsetting.
Says one of Boston’s eloquent preachers, the Rev. M. J. Savage: “In nine cases out of ten, men and women might fairly be called to account for being sick”; and Dr. T. L. Nichols, the eminent hygienist of London, says the same thing, only in slightly different language: “In nine cases out of ten, if people, when they found themselves becoming sick, would simply stop eating, they would have no need of drugs or doctors.”
A certain class of temperance reformers sign pledges to be moderate in their indulgences, and not to “treat” or be “treated.” This rule would be a hundred-fold more life-saving applied (rationally) to food than to drink. It is quite generally the custom to urge our friends to eat to repletion, when they partake of our hospitality.
Given a natural mode of life and natural food, the appetite also would be natural, and the stomach would not accept more than it could digest.
Nature appears, often, to be a lenient creditor, but she never neglects to collect her little bill, finally, with interest and costs of suit: “In the physical world there is no forgiveness of sin.”